


Paradoxical Memories

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures - Various Authors, Faction Paradox (Books & Audio)
Genre: Dr Nyarlathotep, Eighth Doctor Adventures Novels, Eldritch Time-Lords, Faction Paradox (Doctor Who), What Happened on Dust (Doctor Who), doctor who - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26485387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Doctor tells Sarah Jane a story, though it wasn’t quite how he remembered it...
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Paradoxical Memories

**Paradoxical** **Memories  
** _ By Eccentric Time Traveller _

‘Sarah Jane, this might cheer you up, have I ever told you this story from my youth?’ The Doctor comforted his companion, as she cried into his fire engine coloured coat, made of the most immaculate velvet there ever was.

You see, Sarah had just gotten news over the phone, that a dear family memberhad died, a cousin of hers... it was a traffic collision. Sarah was completely distraught, why did horrible things happen to people who did nothing to deserve it?

The Doctor brushed his hand through her brown locks of hair as they sat against The Tardis outer-wall.

‘I’m not sure if you have, you didn’t say what it was about.’ She answered him in a sheepish tone, wiping tears from her eyes as she looked up to meet his wrinkled face. He always carried the wise austere impression of a man who had spent his whole life studying, who knew the answers to everything, who always knew what to say that made her feel better.

‘It was on one of the worst days of my life, back when I was at The Academy. I hated the place, I could never get a handle on how they worded the questions, it was entirely pretentious.’ He continued on, his voice soothing and parental.

‘I had ran back to the fields of the dry lands of old Gallifrey.’ He thought back to the deep shades of maroon, scarlet, and ruby that drenched the slopes of the grass and wheats.

‘There was this hill, it was beside my old family home.’ Images of the ancient, dusty and antique House of Lungburrow flashed back to his mind.

‘I stood at the very top of the hill.’ He said, thinking of the dark grimy river that ran beneath it, he swore it was black.

‘Just behind me, there was an old tree.’ He thought back, the tree seemed like it had been there since forever, people swore that it had been around for at least 12,000 years. It was devoid of any leaves at all, the wood looked patchwork and jagged, and it branched off into oh so many directions, like a hand with a thousand fingers reaching up to the scarlet sky.

‘And just under the tree, sat a hermit...’

The Hermit wore an old black cloak, covering his face, with different jagged pieces of bones wrapping around him.

The Hermit spoke to him, their voice muffled and barely understandable, but with an underlying sense of sophistication.

‘So you’re the replacement?’ The Hermit asked him.

‘No...

That’s not how it went!’ The Doctor shouted, his face scrunching up, there was a look of terror in his eyes.

‘Doctor!? Doctor!? What’s going on?’ Sarah jutted forward, fearfully placing her hand on his shoulder.‘You’re scaring me, Doctor! What’s happening to you?’ She pleaded, her voice fearful and jittery.

‘That’s not the way it happened!’ He screamed, frenzied and frantic, he started to shake, but it was too late, The Doctor made an unintelligible noise that appeared to be a gasp before slumping over, unconscious.

Sarah screamed, her voice nothing but a shriek, petrified by fear.

And she kept screaming as the world around her faded away.

Faded into the endless black.  
  


The Doctor’s eyes peeled open, it was all hazy. A desert fog filled the air.

He was at the hill again. Feelings of nostalgia came back to him, only to be quickly replaced with an uncanny aura of eerie perversion. Someone was taking his memories and breaching them, violating them.

‘So who are you?’ The Doctor questioned sternly, with a grave look blazing within his eyes. ‘Because if you think you’re frightening, with your gothic little get up, then you’re sorely mistaken. I’m The Doctor, I’ve dealt with Daleks, Cybermen, even the likes of Omega himself.’

‘You misunderstand me, Doctor. This isn’t a threat of any kind. This is just a simple checkup.’ The Hermit told him, his tone smug, and jubilant. ‘And to answer your question, to put simply, I’m a distant relative, you can call me Grandfather, or just an aspect of him.’

‘Oh please, don’t think for a second I’ll dignify you with the title.’ The Doctor severely retorted, before asking. ‘You told me that I was your successor, what did you mean?’

‘Let’s just say some people have some interesting plans for you, if they are heavily misguided. Normally I wouldn’t care but you’ve pique my intrigue.’ The Aspect coldly explained.

‘What are these plans?’ The Doctor inquired.

‘That would be spoiling the fun.’

The Aspect gestured to the old house.

‘Will you accept my invitation?’ He asked, clicking his fingers before gesturing The Doctor to follow him inside. The doors of the house barging open.

Whispers began to drift outside, whisking around and circling The Doctor,buzzing little whispers about his family, his father, his mother, his birth, secrets about his House and Gallifrey. Something compelling him to learn more.

Inside the house, The Doctor could just make out a dead daisy. The deadest daisy he ever saw.

‘No, I think I’m rather fine here.’ He refused, whatever wanted him to follow the maniac in front of him, was clearly _not_ him, it had to be an influence.

‘Suit yourself.’ The Aspect said, before removing his hood.

The Doctor gasped.

The Grandfather was a distinguished elderly gentleman, with a wrinkled aristocratic face, expressive eyebrows and a top of white fluffy hair.

The face was uncomfortably familiar to The Doctor, it was his own. That was how he woke up.  
  


  
He found himself somewhere strange, unfamiliar, with a singeing pain in his stomach.

He was gushing red all over the place. _He had been shot._

He was on the planet Dust.

And Sarah Jane was by his side as he laid on the rough ground, she was crying.

He spoke softly, his voice weak. ‘Sarah Jane, a tear?’ He was going to change again. 

Time-Lords are strange creatures.When you look at them, you’re only seeing as much as you can comprehend.

They aren’t some sort of eldritch abominations, all tendrils with infinite eyes mouths and such drifting in the upper dimensions of reality.

They’re much less ostentatious. They are the avatars and beacons of Time itself, they’re a grinding gear in machinery of the universe, sewn into the bodies of humanoids, bodies knitted together from sheer strands of Biodata. Gods in their little human suits. But sometimes these suits are damaged beyond repair, and a biological reset is required.

Regeneration… is a swift but volcanic experience, a sort of violent biological eruption, in which the body cells are displaced, changed, renewed, and rearranged, burning up the old body for enough energy to make a new one…there are bound to be side effects.

It always felt different each time, sometimes it was a sudden flash, other times it was a fiery event, sometimes it was just one body fading into another. But it was always painful.

It was his body and mind being tied up in knots. Brutally rejiggering the mind and body of aTime Lord’s persona, different parts of their personality brushing up against one another, creating entirely new traits and personalities. Like mashing up blue and yellow to make green.

The shift was quick,the dandy old man phase of his life was over, now it was time for The Eccentric Wanderer, The Bohemian Traveller, and The Citizen of The Universe to take over.


End file.
